


Distraction

by alwaysopossum



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season 2 Episode 1 “Redemption”, Season/Series 02, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:01:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25853269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysopossum/pseuds/alwaysopossum
Summary: What to do while imprisoned and awaiting certain death via execution or the Liberator’s destruction? Why, have one last desperate fuck, of course.
Relationships: Kerr Avon/Jenna Stannis
Comments: 15
Kudos: 12





	Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a someone stating that they were waiting for Jenna to suggest one last shag before she and Avon die.
> 
> Note that I’ve only seen up to season 2 episode 10. If there’s somehow anything here that is completely contradicted by future events, that’s why.

When Avon pointed out their current location matched Orac’s prediction, Jenna’s sense of dread grew.

“It’s hopeless, then,” she said, only half meaning it. There were still opportunities to escape, to avoid execution, to thwart Orac’s prediction, but the deck did seem relentlessly stacked against them. Sometimes it really felt as if they were just living on borrowed time, stolen moment by moment in narrow misses and slim chances.

Avon gave her a withering look. “You almost sound as if you want to die.”

“As much as you do,” she said, matching the acid in his tone. She turned away from him, toward the door, but the uniform metallic gray was a worse sight than even the swirl of stars that spelled their doom.

Avon moved away and took a seat on the hard bench lining the cell, almost mirroring their positions from earlier. She listened to him settle and stared hard at the door, willing it to open and reveal a friendly someone on the other side. Avon’s steely face could be the friendliest she’d see before she died. A depressing thought, really. The idea that they likely wouldn’t escape rang in her mind like a bell, growing and resonating throughout her body with chilling, phantom vibrations.

“What would you do,” she asked, that fearful burst of adrenaline propelling her to turn toward him, “if you knew with absolute certainty you were going to die? If you weren’t here, of course.”

Avon remained impassive save for a slight pursing of his lips. “I don’t see the point of this futile thought experiment.”

Jenna sighed quietly. What was pointless was expecting a simple answer from Avon, of all people. Vila may have been the better one to be locked up with. If he couldn’t get the lock open, he might have at least indulged and distracted her with fantasies of last excesses. At the very least, she wouldn’t have Orac’s prediction hanging over her head like an ax in addition to the specter of a gun at her temple threatening execution. Avon just had to share his terrible observation with her; he was too clever by half and she wished he’d kept that half to himself for once. 

“There is no point,” she said, impatiently, irritated with him, “but waiting here in silence is maddening.” She thought, _please, Avon, just answer the question_ , but refused to voice it.

To her surprise, he looked thoughtful for a moment. “Find a way _not_ to die,” he answered glibly.

She laughed, though it was no release of tension. Quite the opposite. “That’s a very Vila-like answer,” she said. “I suppose it’s the best I’ll get from you.”

“Well, I’ve never said he was wrong about his will to survive. It’s one of the only things he’s ever right about.”

It was an uncharitable assessment, but a compliment coming from Avon. He went quiet, just watching her. What did he see? Did she look as wild as she felt inside, brimming with an impotent desire for something, anything but this interminable waiting?

“I pose the same question to you,” he said, finally. “What would you do?”

Despite presenting the question herself, she hadn’t expected to be asked in return. Jenna considered her response - not carefully, her mind racing from one answer to another before settling on something trite but true.

“It’s simple. Have one last mind-blowing shag, I think.” Jenna was loathe to admit it had been far too long since she’d had sex, let alone any sex that could be considered mind-bowing.

Avon laughed loudly, obviously surprised by her forwardness. “That is quite simple. Though,” he faltered for a moment, failing to conclude his snide remark. When he continued, his voice was softer, less disparaging.

“I can’t begrudge you,” he said.

“You can’t?” Now, this was a curious tack to take. 

“It may not have been on my mind, but I can’t deny the idea holds no small appeal.” A slight smile played at the corner of his lips. If the situation weren’t so dire, she’d think he was having fun teasing her. Or, maybe teasing her was how he distracted himself from the inevitable.

His mouth quickly settled back into a grim line and Jenna ached for that faded bit of good humor. She took a small step forward and looked at him, really looked at him - the solemnity of his face and tightness of his shoulders, his pale, square hands clenched against his upper arms as he crossed them over his chest - and thought, _Well, why the hell not?_

She took another step towards him and said, with confidence bolstered by fear and the first stirrings of arousal, “If we both find it appealing, let’s do something about it.”

The incredulity on his face spoke volumes, yet he elaborated. “In case you haven’t noticed, we are trapped in here, awaiting execution.”

“Exactly. I can’t think of a better time.” Now she smiled, teasing him, upping the tenor of their conversation to a level that quickened her pulse. He must meet her challenge or back down, both options oddly compelling in their own right. A bright flash of desire shot through her.

“I can,” he stated tersely, looking up at her. She was close enough that they could touch, if either wanted. The toes of their boots were just scant inches apart. Neither of them moved. The silence, yet again, was maddening.

Finally, when she could scarcely stand his scrutiny any longer, he uncrossed his arms. Her heart raced as he raised his hands to settle them on her hips. He still could push her away, but she fiercely hoped he wouldn’t.

“Why not?” He said, echoing her earlier thoughts. That trace of humor was back on his face and his brown eyes were beautifully dark even in the harsh light of the cell.

She let him draw her down until she was straddling his thighs. The metal bench was hard on her knees, but there was nowhere in this damned cell that would be comfortable. She would have to work with what she had, and what she had, to her dismay, was Avon under her, willing. That wild surge of adrenaline she felt at broaching the subject in the first place had been fully replaced with the hot burn of arousal.

There were occasions when two people could take their time. They could kiss, examine every inch of their lover’s body and tease delightful sounds from them in the leisurely pursuit of pleasure. Now was not one of those times.

A sense of urgency gripped them, spurring them on desperately. Jenna found the opening of Avon’s trousers with difficulty and fumbled with the buttons with shaky hands until he said, impatiently, “Let me and you take care of yours.”

She rose up higher on her knees and unfastened the panel at the crotch of her bodysuit while Avon canted his hips to push his trousers down just enough to avoid buttons and zipper rubbing either of them uncomfortably. Taking his cock in her hand, causing him to bite back a gasp, she positioned herself above him and let gravity work her down.

She was tight after going so long without so much as a good finger fuck, but she was also incredibly aroused, slicked by just the promise of sex. With a forceful nudge of her hips, Avon’s cock slipped inside her. Now she bit back a gasp at the obscene stretch of herself around him. His cock filled her in a way that made her ache pleasurably from head to toe, made her stomach clench and her cunt throb, made her want to throw her head back and ride him hard, heedless of no one’s gratification but her own.

He gripped her hips harder and moaned lowly as she moved shallowly and quickly, aiming for that perfect friction and slide of his cock within her that would numb her mind with delirious pleasure. Jenna fiercely wished she wasn’t wearing this damn full bodysuit so she might have his hands on her skin, on her breasts and stomach and thighs and wherever else he wished to touch. She wanted him to fuck her slowly with his fingers - those fingers opening her up and teasing out her orgasm for hours if they could spare it. She wanted his mouth. She wanted his head between her spread legs, his lips on her cunt, his tongue swirling around her swollen clit and dipping inside her to taste, looking up at her with an infuriating smirk and his face slick with her wetness.

A half-formed thought of _well, when we do this again..._ crossed her mind and was pushed away as quickly as it came. The whole point was of this was the possibility there wouldn’t be an _again_.

She had been deliriously lost in herself, lost in her fantasies and her desperate pursuit of release. That one ill-formed thought brought her back. A sick, sourness churned in her stomach and threatened to crawl up her throat. At some point, she had closed her eyes and now she opened them again, trying to find the way back to her pleasure.

There was a slight flush of color on Avon’s cheeks and his mouth was attractively parted as he panted in effort with her towards the same goal of pleasure and release. His eyes were wide and dark with desire, slightly glazed but focused on her. Was he cataloguing the way she looked in this moment just as she was him?

She currently had no mind for self-debate, and they’d already gone this far, so there was no question when she leaned in and kissed his open mouth. His lips were slack against hers and she shifted the rhythm of her hips to elicit a rough groan from him, sound of his own pleasure sweet against her mouth. They didn’t kiss so much as they shared breath and let their mouths and tongues meet lazily, their faces so close that they could painfully knock their teeth or noses or foreheads together if not careful. The heat between them rose as did the burn inside her. The sounds of their soft, bitten-off moans and gasps ate away at the ever present whine of machinery from outside the cell until her ears were filled with only the noises they made between them.

Avon said, “Jenna,” in a gravelly whisper and she knew he was as close she was. She was a tight string, plucked over and over as his cock ground against that spot inside her, until, finally, the string was cut. She cried out silently, air frozen in her lungs and then expelled in one harsh gasp as she came, shuddering and clenching around his hard cock, her nails digging into the leather shoulders of his jacket and her hair sticking to both their sweaty faces.

Her sight, less narrow than it had been in the singular pursuit of her own release, took in the deep furrow of his brow, the tight squeeze of his closed eyes, the lines around them, and the peek of white teeth between his lips. She rode his cock slowly and deliberately, eking out her own last frissons of pleasure, when he tensed beneath her and came with a shaky exhale of breath and a broken groan. She relished the twitch of his cock and the warmth of him as he spilled inside her. It thrilled her terribly to see him undone in such a way, to see between the cracks of his control. 

They stayed for only a half-minute more before the discomfort of her position began to overwhelm the post-orgasmic bliss. She rose up on her knees again, letting his cock slip from her and sliding awkwardly over his lap to sit beside him. His softening cock was shiny and wet, the evidence of what they’d done drying on his skin and being tucked back into his trousers as he buttoned himself back up. She fixed herself as well, fastening together her bodysuit and combing her fingers through her hair.

Avon broke the silence first. 

“Are you satisfied?” He asked coolly, and she tried to look between the cracks she’d found before only to find them roughly smoothed over, present just in the pinked skin of his cheeks and the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“Not remotely,” she said, with no heat behind her words. It had been used up in the frantic, desperate meeting of their bodies.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m on Tumblr as alwaysopossum if you want to chat B7 with me.


End file.
